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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954283">prism</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSacrificialPancake/pseuds/TheSacrificialPancake'>TheSacrificialPancake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Purgatory, destiel + orpheus' gay cajun vampire sidepiece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:09:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSacrificialPancake/pseuds/TheSacrificialPancake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Dean starts awkwardly, voice too loud in the enclosed space. “How are you?”</p><p>Cas, the bastard, fucking <i>shrugs.</i></p><p>or</p><p>purgatorial - (adjective) - 1. of, relating to, or suggestive of purgatory; 2. cleansing of sin</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>prism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic has been giving me trouble for weeks, so I am throwing in the towel and saying “good enough!” I am trying to practice self acceptance lately and that includes posting a fic that I don’t think is absolutely perfect yet! this is called character growth! I’m gonna let it go! (narrator’s voice: she did not, in fact, let it go.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cave feels Heaven-sent. The irony of that isn’t lost on Dean. He just knows that if he considers it for another nanosecond on this colossally weird day, he’ll run headfirst into a tree. So instead he eyes the thick copse of trees surrounding it, and imagines the visibility it offers on such high ground. It isn’t a perfect shelter, but it’ll do for the night. Granted, he thinks, looking over his shoulder to the vampire and angel at his flank, anything besides an open clearing would do.</p><p>In the months Dean and Benny had been traveling as a duo, they’d passed most of the long, eerie nights pressed back to back on the dirt ground, staring into the inky blackness and watching for glowing eyes. Every now and again they’d stumble across an abandoned shack or a ramshackle cabin to hide in. Dean sighs thinking of those moments when he had actually been able to close his eyes; they were the closest he’d come to letting his guard down in what felt like decades.</p><p>But today is different. Today, a third party joins their pilgrimage. For months now, Dean has whipped his head towards anything tan in his periphery, hoping he might find that stupid trench coat. Now that it and its owner are walking close enough for Dean to touch if he stretches out his hand, his brain can’t quite tell up from down. Which is fine by him, because he wouldn’t know what to say even if he had the courage to open his mouth.</p><p>The confrontation by the riverbank that afternoon left everyone a bit tense. Hardly a word has been spoken in the hours they’ve been walking since. The only verbal communication exchanged was an hour ago, when Cas shouted a warning for Dean to duck. He did, just in time to feel a claw swipe past where his ear had been a moment earlier. They handled the werewolves quickly, sliding into their joint fighting style with ease. Back to back. On speaking terms or not, Dean and Cas know how to move as one on the battlefield.</p><p>Now as the three of them scale steep, wooded terrain, Dean’s eyes linger on Cas longer than they should. His coat is tattered, ripped to shreds along its hem. Dirt crawls up the corded muscle at the back of his neck. Dean’s gaze lands on the side of Cas’s bearded face, and even as he makes a huge racket tripping on a tree root, he can’t pull his eyes away.</p><p>It’s unclear whether Cas is actively avoiding Dean’s attention, or if he’s just oblivious enough to not notice. Another glaring irony for Dean to ignore: Castiel, Olympic-caliber Starer of the Lord, won't make eye contact with him. Benny, however, catches Dean’s elbow when he stumbles and quirks a brow his way.</p><p>Weeks ago, after Dean had viciously beheaded a ghoul who had no information on Cas’s whereabouts, Benny had asked him, “You sweet on that angel, cher?”</p><p>“Shut your fanged mouth,” Dean had hissed in return. From the look on Benny’s face, that had been answer enough. Now that they’re all together and Dean can’t seem to pull his focus away from said angel, Benny’s knowing glance feels sharp enough to sting.</p><p>So yeah, when Dean sees an honest-to-god cave over the crest of the hill, with only one entrance and a roof to protect their heads, on the day he finally tracked down Cas? It feels like an olive branch from the universe. God knows he’s more than earned one.</p><p>“We’ll camp in that cave for the night.” Dean announces gruffly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He’s at the helm of this ship of stragglers, and isn’t in the mood to waste time fielding questions. The trees' shadows are lengthening into monstrous fingers along the ground, which means they'll lose the light soon.</p><p>“Good find. Uh...does he have an on switch?” Benny mumbles, low enough for only Dean to hear. He turns to see Cas trailing behind them dutifully without a word. His face is extraordinarily blank. Dean wants to shake him by the shoulders and scream <em>"Wake up!"</em> Instead, he raises his blade and moves towards the stone opening that marks tonight’s sanctuary.</p><p>A careful exploration reveals that the cave is uninhabited. It’s no more than eight feet wide for the first ten paces or so, but then it opens up quite deeply, and is high enough for Dean to stand at full height without bumping his head. The walls of rock are a slick dark grey, and a few stalagmites spike upwards from the back corner. Dean is about to deem it worthy and turn back when his eye catches something glittering on the wall. Upon closer inspection, he finds a cluster of iridescent crystals growing out of a crevice. There are more of them along the walls deeper into the structure, clearly thriving in the cool humidity of the cave. They glow from within, casting a warm haze inside the otherwise dark enclosure. It's not the first time he's stumbled upon something straight out of a fantasy book in purgatory. Dean has seen a pond gleaming pure silver like mercury, an archway of dead flowers and vines calling for him to pass through it, and some truly goblin-esque creatures looking for all the world like garden gnomes, eager to grant him wishes. But if his lifelong education in myth and legend has taught him anything, it's that beautiful things can still hurt you. He gives the crystals a wide berth as he skirts back to the entrance.</p><p>“Alright,” Dean says, returning to his co-pilots. “You two head inside and get some rest. It’s my turn to keep watch.”</p><p>Benny clears his throat and fixes Dean with a pointed stare. “Brother, you’re confused. It’s <em>my</em> turn.”</p><p>Dean squints at him, but Benny doesn’t budge. He playfully punches Cas in the shoulder instead. “We’ll work you into the rotation, Feathers, don’t you worry.”</p><p>Cas displays his first emotion since the riverbank and glares at Benny with righteous fury, and a healthy twist of Sam's patented bitchface. <em>Jesus,</em> Dean thinks, <em>if looks could vaporize.</em> Cas brushes past them both and strides into the cave.</p><p>Benny steps closer to Dean and whispers, “Y’all go figure out your shit, man. It ain’t safe for you to be this distracted.”</p><p>Dean wants to fight him on it, but he’s not wrong. His head was crammed so far up his own ass, that werewolf could’ve easily taken him out earlier. Thank god for angelic reflexes.</p><p>“Yeah, fair point,” Dean concedes. “Shout if there’s any trouble.” Benny pats him on the back and shoves him into the cave after Cas.</p><p>Dean wades into the dark and blinks as his pupils dilate at the drop in brightness. He hears the whisper of skin on rock and can just make out how Cas is sliding his fingers along the stone walls. He silently walks the perimeter, testing its borders. Dean's warning to avoid the crystals dies on his lips as Cas starts weaving his palm through the spaces between them. Right. Angel. He can probably sense creepy magic better than Dean can. Aside from the faint glow of the gems, there’s ambient light from the entrance. Day and night do cycle here, but there's a chronic dusk to purgatory; a hazy, cool-toned fog that absorbs all warmth and never dissipates. As evening falls outside, that telltale purplish tint illuminates Cas’s profile, angled away.</p><p>Dean takes the opportunity to stare some more.</p><p>There’s a smudge of mud on Cas’s temple, and a hole ripped through the knee of his scrubs. His sharp nose and high cheekbones are highlighted by the facial hair, carving shadows into the hollows of his face like he's been sculpted from marble. Honestly, it’s a good look on him. Dean’s never seen Cas in anything other than the Holy Tax Accountant getup, but this works. The rugged visage makes him look more like a hunter than anything else. The thought makes Dean’s chest tighten.</p><p>Cas finishes his exploratory loop and settles against the wall, one shoulder turned towards his companion.</p><p>Dean sighs loudly.</p><p>Cas still doesn’t look at him.</p><p>It feels wrong to stand this far apart, on either ends of the cave. Their invisible tether usually has less slack, leaving them floating well within one another’s personal space no matter the circumstances. But ever since the river, Dean feels like if he takes a step closer, something between them will shatter. The tension in the air is so thick, a meat cleaver wouldn’t cut it. Dean reckons he’d need an industrial strength chainsaw to even make a dent.</p><p>But someone’s gotta try, and god knows Cas is too stubborn a motherfucker to man up and do it himself.</p><p>“So,” Dean starts awkwardly, voice too loud in the enclosed space. Cas doesn’t look up from his shoes, but his head tilts to show he’s listening. “How are you?”</p><p>Cas, the bastard, fucking <em>shrugs.</em></p><p>"In English, Sunshine."</p><p>The firm set of Cas's mouth twitches. “I'm alright.”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes. “Define ‘alright’ for me. In full sentences, if you can manage that.”<em> And look at me, while you're at it.</em></p><p>“I’m tired." Cas refuses to meet his gaze even as he answers. Dean briefly contemplates homicide. "I suspect we’ve had similar experiences in our time here.” He nods his chin towards the cave entrance and the vampire standing outside it. “You found...an <em>ally,</em> which I suspect aided you in defensive capabilities. But alone, I’ve just been running, fighting, and hiding, every moment since we landed.”</p><p><em>Well maybe if you hadn’t abandoned me, neither of us would've been alone,</em> Dean thinks bitterly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’m lucky I found someone to watch my back. Hint, hint.” Cas doesn't rise to the bait. “Benny has saved my hide on more than one occasion. But truth be told, we’re scrambling. We’re lucky if one of us gets to take a nap every week or so.”</p><p>That puts a frown on Cas’s face, but he ducks his head to hide it. “Do you still require sleep here?”</p><p>Dean purses his lips in thought. “‘Require’ is a strong word. Honestly, I’m not sure. We can’t quite tell how time passes, and I don’t really get hungry or thirsty. A nap here or there doesn’t hurt.”</p><p>Cas nods and falls quiet once again. Something desperate claws at the inside of Dean's ribs, anxious not to fall back into the painful silence.</p><p>
  <em>Look at me, look at me, Castiel, for fuck’s sake please <b>look at me.</b></em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Dean blurts out, “I still bleed.”</em> </em>
</p><p><em>That</em> gets the angel’s attention. Cas cocks his head to peer across the cave, concerned eyes sweeping up Dean's form to check for injuries before they land on his face. The shock of blue sends Dean tumbling into memories of a barn alight with sparks and gunfire. That first night feels like a lifetime ago, and still the déjà vu hits him like a semi. They always end up here - piercing eye contact anchoring them to one another while the world spins too quickly around them. Centrifugal motion pulling at Dean's solar plexus, even as he stands perfectly still. He wonders absently if being the subject of Cas’s intense focus will ever fail to send his heart fluttering into his throat.</p><p>
  <em> <em>“I don’t know why it surprised me,” Dean continues. “I bled in Hell, that’s for damn sure, so it makes sense that I do here too. I guess I just figured...different world, different rules, y’know?”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Cas nods. And then, shockingly, responds. “I bleed here too.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“What?” Dean instinctively gives Cas a once over to check for red spots on the trench coat or the scrubs underneath. “For real? But aren’t you...I mean, are you your angel self or your vessel’s...or, like, your body’s...self, here?”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Cas sighs. “It’s difficult to explain in layman’s terms.” </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Yeah, I ain’t exactly a layman when it comes to the metaphysical shit, Cas.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“That’s not what I-” Cas cuts himself off with a frustrated huff. He presses both shoulders to the wall, leaning his head back to bump against the stone. The hollow thud echoes in the space loud enough to make Dean wince. Cas lifts a hand to scrub across his jaw, which strikes Dean as an oddly human gesture. If he gives it a moment’s thought, it's statistically likely Cas picked up that particular habit from him. “I only meant that the answer is complicated. I am neither in my true angelic form here, nor am I completely bound within my human body. The two are more or less intertwined on this plane.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Dean parses that for a minute. “So when you say you bleed here, that means when you get hurt…”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Cas nods. “I bleed both blood and grace.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Jesus,” Dean whispers in horror.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“No, he’s in Heaven.” Cas answers drily.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>A bark of laughter tumbles from Dean’s chest, startling them both. Their eyes meet across the cave. It’s too <em>far,</em> this distance. Dean wants to know for sure that Cas is safe and whole. He wants to feel him under his hands, make sure he isn’t gushing blood or grace anywhere. He needs to know that if he turns his back for one goddamn second, Cas won’t disappear like he always does.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“So, you really...heard my prayers?” His voice comes out small.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Every word.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Dean buries his face in his hands. “Fuck. It’s like the angelic version of leaving drunk voicemails. I definitely said some embarrassing shit.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>When he peeks out from between his fingers, Cas is smiling at him gently, one eyebrow quirked. “That depends on your definition of embarrassing. I found them rather grounding.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Dean snorts. “Yeah, the melodious timbre of my voice has always been my best quality.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“I’m not mocking you. It’s how I knew you were safe.” At Dean’s incredulous look, Cas hedges, “Well, relatively. And like you said, since the concept of time here is murky at best, I began to mark the days by your prayers. I didn’t like to hear you in distress, of course, but hearing you at all was better than silence. It meant you were still out there.” A softness falls across his features. “Actually, your prayers saved my life, not too long ago.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“How do you figure?”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“I was battling a Leviathan.” Dean flinches at the thought of those slimy, black maws anywhere near Cas. “I was exhausted, injured, and I nearly…” He frowns gently, lost in the memory. “I nearly gave up.”</em> </em>
</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“I heard your prayer." Cas’s lips twist in amusement. "On this particular evening, it went something like, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘You’d better not be dead, you son of a bitch, or I swear I will kill you myself.’" He looks like he's holding in laughter.</p><p>Dean blushes. "Yeah, that sounds like me. Sorry, it's probably distracting to have me yelling inside your head when you're trying to gank some monster."</p><p>"It is, but I've learned to decode the affection in your vague threats." Dean swallows his tongue and longs for death.</p><p>Cas goes on anyway. "But that's not all. Then you said ‘If you’ve got the angel and you’re hearing this, I am coming for him. And I’d like to see you black-hearted bastards try and stop me.’ Your determination gave me the strength to keep fighting. To, uh...stow my crap, so to speak, and smite the creature.”</p><p>“Hmm. Paraphrasing, huh?”</p><p>“Well,” Cas mutters, looking a bit embarrassed, “I can hardly be blamed for my eidetic memory, now can I?”</p><p>"I'm just saying, you can't quote a man to himself like a song you've known by heart for years, and then pretend it's no big deal."</p><p>"For what it's worth, I would listen to you on repeat if I could. Your prayers are far more inspiring to me than any podcast Sam has ever sent my way."</p><p>A rush of tenderness swallows Dean whole. Something darker follows it. A flash of rage, or maybe rejection. Those feelings he never lets out have been simmering in his chest all day, building a jenga tower of delicate composure behind his sternum. It threatens to choke him if he doesn’t let it come tumbling out.</p><p>“Cas, why the <em>hell</em> didn’t you at least let me know you were alright before taking off? This place is a goddamn nightmare already, and you vanishing like that scared the shit out of me. It’s been...well, I can’t tell time here, but it’s definitely been months. You heard me, every single night, you knew what I was thinking. And you just...why?”</p><p>
  <em> <em>Cas winces in the dim light, but does not budge. “Because, Dean, I could not stand the thought of endangering you further. I know you, better than most. You're so eager to martyr yourself. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you would've agreed to splitting up for your benefit? You would’ve rejected the idea on principle and insisted on staying together, likely to your own detriment.” </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>The words sting. Dean should’ve known this line of questioning would inevitably turn back around to his own flaws. After all, he’s just the stubborn grunt, he can’t possibly be reasoned with. Might as well take off while you’ve got a passable excuse. Cas had probably been waiting to make his escape for a long time, and all Dean had to do was give him a reason.</em> </em>
</p><p><em>“Stop</em> that.” Cas pushes off the wall with one foot, and squares his shoulders to Dean. “This was neither your doing nor your fault. It was safer for you without me, that is a fact. So I made a choice based on what I thought was best: I stayed away. But please, Dean, <em>please</em> believe me when I say, I did not want to.”</p><p>
  <em> <em>Relief crashes through him. Dean may have known it in his head, but an ugly voice from way down deep has been trying to convince him otherwise. His brain stumbles to produce a dissembling response before tears start collecting in his lashes. “I thought we set some boundaries about the mind reading thing.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Believe it or not, I can’t always help it. Your thoughts ring like church bells when you’re worried, loud and clear. You practically shout them at me.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“Oh.” </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Cas lips quirk up. “But this time, I could just see the internal spiral reflected on your face.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>A hot flush rises up Dean’s neck. “You asshole.”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>“You must know, Dean. I do regret having to leave you, of course I do.” Cas continues. “But I will not apologize for doing what I must to protect you. That is my priority, whether you like it or not.”</em> </em>
</p><p>It’s not the first time the angel has gone all mother hen on him, but it might be the first time Dean notices how comforting it feels. Warmth flutters in his stomach at the thought that he’s got someone he knows, someone he really trusts, watching his six in this hellscape.</p><p>He’s thought of nothing but finding Cas since he got here. The knowledge that he had been left, intentionally, is still a bitter pill to swallow. But he’s got his friend back, and they can keep each other safe now. That’s gotta count for something.</p><p>“I get it.” Dean croaks out. “I wish I didn’t, cause I’m still pissed as hell, but I do. And y'know, if the tables were turned...I probably would've done the same thing.”</p><p>"Yeah, only probably." Cas drawls, dubious.</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>Cas raises his hands in surrender and steps back to lean against the wall, marking the end of the conversation. Dean immediately steps forward to compensate, itching to close the space entirely.</p><p>Then he freezes, remembering how much the ground between them still resembles a minefield.</p><p>That afternoon by the river had been the first time he and Cas ever hugged. He was warm pressed to Dean’s chest, peach fuzz scratchy against Dean’s knuckles. He smelled like dirt and blood, like the rest of purgatory, but also something smoky. Lightning and ozone, or maybe a crackling fire. Dean’s hands have been longing to reach out and touch all day, starved and aching to remind himself Cas is real.</p><p>
  <em> <em>Benny is keeping watch. They’ve got some semblance of privacy. Not to mention, they could get mauled to death tomorrow.</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>So what the hell?</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>But of course, Dean fumbles in the asking. “Hey. I think it would be good, if we, um...I need you to...would you let me...fuck. Please, Cas, just-”</em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em>Cas’s brow lifts. “I didn’t think it possible for you to suffer a stroke down here.”</em> </em>
</p><p>“Dammit, Cas, <em>c’mere.”</em></p><p>Genuine concern wipes his face of sarcasm. Cas crosses the space quickly, like Dean might actually be stroking out. Once he’s close enough, Dean closes fingers around the dirty lapels and pulls.</p><p>They crash somewhere in the middle, chest to chest. Cas’s gasp of surprise hits Dean’s cheek as Dean’s chin juts into his shoulder. Dean bites his tongue in the collision, but he doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Cas and holds him like there’s no tomorrow.</p><p>Dean never did learn how to love gently.</p><p>“God, I missed you.” He breathes into the crook of Cas’s neck. Holy shit, skin on skin contact that isn't meant to draw blood. Dean might actually cry.</p><p>It takes Cas a moment to realize he’s not being attacked, but rather, embraced. Dean feels the instant he figures it out, because his hands set firmly against Dean’s spine and he hums against Dean’s ear. Dean clings harder, reveling in the slide of Cas’s palm up the nape of his neck. “I know.”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes at the Star Wars reference, still too angry to let the pride at Cas’s successful pop culture allusion derail him. “I know you know. Ugh, can't believe you could hear me all along. You dick."</p><p>"There's no need for playground insults." Cas's tone is chastising, but the fingers carding through Dean's hair are gentle. "I am sorry."</p><p>"I know," Dean mutters, "it's okay." He tucks his temple against Cas's.</p><p>A beat passes.</p><p>"What is this?" Cas asks.</p><p>"It's called a hug, moron."</p><p>"No, Dean, look," Cas says, pulling away and gesturing to the cave walls around them.</p><p>In the last few minutes, purgatory's mock sun has well and truly set. The loss of haze from the entrance has left them in near darkness - except for the patches of crystal growing between the stones. Their subtle glow has brightened into a magnificent shine. Every edge and face splinters outward in a kaleidoscope of colors. The ceiling above them is illuminated too, clusters glittering like stars above their heads. The cave has transformed into a cocoon of prisms.</p><p>Dean looks back at Cas and his breath catches in his throat.</p><p>The angel's face is freckled with tiny rainbows. Refracted light has sprayed them all over like a fleet of miniature disco balls, but Dean can't take his eyes off the ones dappled across Cas's nose. Glinting in his hair. Lighting up his collarbone. He glows, like the ethereal creature he is.</p><p>Dean muses for a long moment on how achingly beautiful Cas is, all lit up, before he remembers words exist and he should probably attempt some. "Why can't a cave just be a cave, huh? Everybody's gotta have a gimmick."</p><p>"I don't think the light will hurt you, Dean." Cas reaches up and pinches the air, like he could hold the color between his fingers if he wanted to. And how like him that would be, to use his great and terrible power for something so small and lovely. Something like catching a rainbow to give to a friend on a rainy day.</p><p><em>He would.</em> Dean thinks, with a kind of confidence he doesn't recognize. <em>For me, he would.</em></p><p>Dean has his palms cupping Cas's jaw before he realizes he's moved. "You don't understand how worried I was that I'd find you dead." Cas's brows turn down. "And that's not an option, alright? I can't do this without you. I was so desperate after a while, I thought I was hallucinating you. Hell, maybe I was. I mean, look at this mystical night club - this place is such a fever dream, I’m honestly not even sure if you’re here and alive, or if I’ve just finally cracked.”</p><p>Cas pulls away a few inches, just enough to catch one of Dean’s palms between his own. He arranges Dean’s hand into a two-fingered salute, the kind he’d use for healing and transport if they weren’t stuck in Wonderland. Cas tilts his chin upwards and presses Dean’s fingers to the pulse point below his jaw. Dean holds his breath until he feels the heartbeat there, strong and steady. Blood and grace rushing through his veins as one.</p><p>Cas steps in and tilts his face til their noses brush and his breath puffs against Dean's lips. "Physical presence, check. Heartbeat, present and accounted for." Dean collapses against him in relief, their foreheads meeting. He slides a thumb up to run along the glowing rainbow resting on Cas's bottom lip.</p><p>“You're alive.”</p><p>“I am alive.” Cas tentatively presses his mouth to the pad of Dean’s thumb. “Well, for now, at least. I am also being actively pursued by bloodthirsty creatures who would like to harvest my grace and display my head on a stake. But in light of this reunion, perhaps we could momentarily ignore the inevitable doom, and...find a way to celebrate, instead?” The hopeful glint in his cornflower irises has nothing to do with the crystals.</p><p>And then Dean is kissing an angel in a rainbow cave in the middle of purgatory, while the friendly neighborhood vampire keeps a lookout for incoming monsters.</p><p>For a Winchester, stranger things have happened.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if someone wants to edit <a href="https://thepointsguy.global.ssl.fastly.net/us/originals/2018/02/Glow-Worm-Sky-in-Waipu-Cave-new-Zealand.jpg?width=1400&amp;dpr=2&amp;auto=webp&amp;crop=16:9,smart">this picture</a> of a glow worm cave to be rainbow instead of just blue, I will love you forever</p></blockquote></div></div>
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